


Slipping Under

by draculard



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Age Difference, Angst, Daddy Kink, Dubious Consent, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, M/M, Seductive Dick Grayson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-06-29 02:04:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19820284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/draculard/pseuds/draculard
Summary: Dick may be new to Wayne Manor, but he already has Bruce wrapped around his little finger.





	Slipping Under

“If you really loved me, you’d let me have this.”

Bruce stares at him, at the little boy he’d taken into his home just a few months ago. Dick is twelve years old — on the cusp of puberty — with the grace and wise, bright eyes of a dancer, of an adult. He’s started styling his hair so it looks the way ten-year-old Bruce’s does in an old family portrait hanging in the east wing of the manor. 

He dresses like Bruce did as a boy, too. Old-fashioned waistcoats and sweaters, some of them pilfered from storage, some of them purchased with Alfred’s help. High, tight shorts which have long gone out of fashion. Knee-high socks and polished shoes.

He looks like a child star from a silent film, with his archaic clothes and hairstyle, with the preternatural glimmer in his eye, with the scrapes on his knees.

“I do love you,” Bruce says. His voice is measured and unemotional; he keeps a heavy, leather-bound book open in his lap to ward Dick away. Dick pouts; he forms the pitiful expression perfectly, but his eyes give it away.

When he comes closer, his hips are swaying. He walks like an adult — like the fey men who sometimes stumble out of clubs downtown and run right into Bruce on his night runs, who collapse gracefully against his chest and run their hands down the leather with a glint of appreciation in their eyes.

He walks like the Joker strolling into a fight, and when Dick opens his mouth, Bruce is almost certain he’s going to say, _Bats._

Instead, the boy just licks his lips, his pink tongue darting out so fast Bruce nearly misses it. But he doesn’t miss the moisture left behind on Dick’s lips, or the crooked little smirk playing on them. 

“Please?” Dick says, his voice high and piping. He puts his small, inordinately strong hands on Bruce’s arms, lifts himself easily into the chair so that his thin, bare legs are straddling Bruce’s. Bruce flinches; he brings the leather-bound book up between them, keeping Dick’s chest from touching his, and Dick’s smirk only widens.

“I want to,” Dick says, his voice a seductive whisper. “I _really_ want to. I can call you Daddy, if you want.”

Bruce shudders and leans back against the armchair as hard as he can, desperate to get away from Dick. He squeezes his eyes shut and feels Dick pluck the book from his hands, hears it hit the floor a few feet away. 

“Don’t do this,” he whispers. His voice is little more than a croak.

“Stop me,” Dick says with a delicate shrug. Bruce doesn’t move a muscle, and after a moment Dick smiles knowingly and presses closer, slotting his hips right up against Bruce’s. 

He _must_ feel Bruce’s erection now. Bruce can certainly feel _his,_ small though it is — that hard little cock straining at the front of Dick’s tight shorts, rubbing against Bruce’s so deliciously. He throws his head against the back of the armchair, biting his lip against a groan. 

And then Dick’s lips find his neck, and all hope of salvaging this is lost.


End file.
